


At Nights

by cadaveres



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:30:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadaveres/pseuds/cadaveres
Summary: Prompt: “don’t cry, I know you’re trying your hardest and the hardest part is letting go of the nights we shared.” for DA Drunk Writing Circle.





	At Nights

They lie under covers, careful not to disturb the space on the other side of the bed, lest they awaken the ghost of memories lying by their side. They stare at the ceiling for what appears to be hours, fearing that should they fall asleep, the ever-looming presence of the wolf will again find them. 

They had seen him already in the fade. It was not the first time he had trailed behind them, at a safe distance, watching and reminding them of words and promises they now feared they could never fulfill. 

The night is too long for their liking. They toss and turn as if that alone could shake off guilts and hopes. They finally settle when the cold recedes, curling on their side, turning their back to the space that used to be his and closing their eyes for what they thought was a blink. 

A hand tightens around the wolf’s fur, warmth and relief settling in. They bury their face against him, letting a long-held breath and with it, tears flow. There’s no embrace, no words, no promise of a tomorrow, but memories long faded take a hold of them: nights stargazing, fingers entwined, lips parted in between breaths and whispered nothings that took the weight of the world from both of their shoulders. 

They awake to darkness, their body now turned to the memory of his lying shape besides them, pillow soaked with salt. The cold seeps back through the covers and settles on their chest. They pull the covers from them and sit at the edge of the bed, desperate hands rubbing away the dried tears from their face. The hardest part is letting go of those memories they made under covers and in darkness, when no eyes could pry away their secrets, so they light up the fireplace in a burst of anger, fading the night away in another sleepless night.


End file.
